Needing John
by notimeatall
Summary: Sherlock is hurt and needs John, but is John going to come back this time. Please R and r thankyou with a reference to an original Holmes story, see if you work out which


**Ok so normally I try and only upload finished stories but they seem to take too long to get into. Apologies for anything that doesn't make sense plot wise, if people enjoy it I'll upload the rest of the case. **

With Lestrade refusing to give anymore details and an arrest made, John felt that there was nothing more they could do. He knew of course Sherlock didn't agree with the facts as they stood and it did seem very unlikely that would kill his own mother but being banned from the witnesses meant that for the time being they would have to go home. This suited Sherlock just fine, he told John. He was expecting a visitor that evening and he wanted John to be there. "So you'll need to rearrange your dinner date with Hannah" he remarked in an offhand manner. John pulled in his frustration and nodded his head slightly. This was the third date Sherlock had managed to ruin now and John was beginning to suspect he was doing in on purpose. When they got back to 221b, John changed into his best shirt and sent a text to Hannah saying he may be a little late. Sherlock could have his full attention for one more hour then he was taking Hannah out, whether the visitor was finished or not.

The time seemed to pass slowly as the pair sat and waited. After ten minutes, Sherlock's eyes suddenly became alert and he listened intently. John could then hear it too. The sharp knocking at the door, persistent and angry.

"That'll be for me" Sherlock said with an air of resignation "now, um John" he said slightly awkwardly "your probably not going to be too impressed with this next scene so um, ah evening Jenny"

As he had been speaking, Mrs Hudson had answered the door to an angry young woman and let her upstairs. As she stormed through the door now she stepped straight over to Sherlock and slapped him hard around the face.

"What the…" John started in confusion as Sherlock fell onto the table.

"You bastard" she shouted angrily "you total bastard I cant believe you did that, you could have had the decency to at least meet up with me to tell me"

"Tell you what, what the hell is going on" John stood in disbelief

"Are you the reason" she spat, turning on John now "he just broke off our engagement with a text! A bloody text, you heartless bastard" she added turning back to Sherlock, who stood, looking rather bored, nodding his head

"Yes I know, terrible aren't I, but things just weren't working for me" he added as he took her by the arm and led her from the room "It wouldn't have worked you know, I simply cant get into vegetarian cook shows, however dramatic the final challenge may be, sorry for everything, bye now"

He turned and sighed as he walked back up the stairs after pushing her back onto the street. Why did women get so attached, like that one of John's, she always wanted to see him, he simply didn't understand what they could find to talk about after so many meetings. In his experience women were attached and focused on you only long enough for you to trust them. Then it was mission accomplished, who's next.

John's face brought him back down to earth as he entered the room. It was one of confusion, bewilderment and reproach. Sherlock was in for another ticking off.

"That wasn't our visitor by the way" he started nonchalantly

"What the hell was that about" John asked as Sherlock took his chair again and checked his watch "She said you broke the engagement, when did you get engaged?"

"What, oh a few days ago I suppose, it was necessary"

"Necessary" John replied "that's a woman's life you're playing with, how was it necessary to get engaged to her only to drop her"

"I needed information" Sherlock said simply "she'd begun to suspect that I wasn't really into her. Couldn't have her running off after her old boyfriend so I asked her to marry me. Worked a treat."

"You got engaged to her for information, Sherlock that's got to be one of the most heartless things I've ever seen you do"

"Nonsense, I've done far worse than that, now can we get back to tonight"

"How the hell did you even make that work" John asked, unable to really believe any relationship of Sherlock's could last anything more than an hour. "You don't know a thing about relationships, how could you have been in one long enough to get engaged"

"Well clearly I must know something" Sherlock muttered more to himself than to John., irritated now at John's persistent interest, He looked over at the clock; the visitor would be here soon. Time to shut John up and focus him on the job in hand

"Have you ever had a relationship, Sherlock, A real relationship, ever?" John asked as Sherlock opened his mouth to speak. Sherlock was stopped in his tracks.

"Look I've got a lot to tell you before..."

"No, it's a simple answer. Have you ever had a real relationship?" This wasn't a passing question, John's eyes were fixed on him for an answer and yet how could he answer that one. If he lied, he would open up a huge discussion as to what the problem was, again, tell the truth though, and he'd face the painful conversation that would have to follow. He needed his mind clear this evening, this conversation couldn't be happening now. He felt like he was looking down the barrel of a gun with only one form of defence. Attack!

"Well it's not as though you've had a _real_ relationship either" Sherlock muttered, casting his eyes down at the paper, hoping that John would respond how he wanted him too

"What" John answered incredulously? Sherlock allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction "What do you mean"

"Well, two weeks down the line they're usually toddling off with someone else, surely that tells you something"

"It's you that ruins it Sherlock" John shouted angrily "every time I try and make a relationship work you're there, pulling me off to some case, insulting my girlfriends or even worse, getting them involved as well"

"You don't have to come" Sherlock replied dryly "if you were serious about them you would stay with them but instead you're running around catching criminals"

"Now you're just being ridiculous" John snorted angrily

"I mean it, where were you meant to be tonight, dinner wasn't it with, no no don't tell me, Paula was it"

"Its Hannah and I am serious about her" John spat, "look you asked me to come, its you, its.. just…. Look fine then I'll go and see Hannah" and he picked up his coat to leave

"What, why" Sherlock replied looking up

"Because believe it or not, some things are more important than all this detective stuff and you're right, I am taking her out tonight, right now"

"But I need you John" Sherlock cried out, standing up. He hadn't meant for John to react like this "please, it's important…"

"Bye" John called over his shoulder "don't wait up" and with that he left and slammed the door. There was a sense of euphoria as he strode off down the street but something else as well. Guilt, should he have left him by himself. For a brief moment he paused and looked back. No, Sherlock Holmes would have to wait this time. He had a dinner date to keep.

Sherlock glanced at the clock as the realisation that John was really not going to help him set in. He had maybe three minutes before his murder suspect arrived, not enough time to get Lestrade over, maybe not even enough time to call him. Sherlock had known that he would need John tonight in order to restrain Callum Howl, he had believed that John would be there as well. In a second, Sherlock had to decide whether to spend his three minutes finding backup, or a way to restrain him single handed. He opted for both and typed a text as he ran to his bedroom

I need you, please come, Howl will be armed and violent, I can't do it alone

Send

Add recipient

John

Lestrade

Send

Sending

The sound of footsteps on the stairs made Sherlock stop still, one hand on his handcuffs and chloroform. Two, no three men were walking up the stairs. Sherlock had not expected him to come with other people. if they believed he truly knew everything, he was in real trouble. Maybe he could hide in the bedroom, maybe he could get out of the window and get back up, maybe …

Sent

Beep

The noise was deafening in the silent room. Sherlock made for the window but before his hand touched the glass, there was a hand about his neck, pulling him back into the living room.

John heard the text go off in his pocket and snatched up his phone.

1 text message from Sherlock

He shook his head and firmly pressed the off button before putting it back in his pocket, he wasn't going to give in to him when he was playing these games. John rounded the corner and skipped up the steps to Hannah's front door. Tapping lightly he turned back round to face the street. The message on his phone crept into his mind and he shook his head to focus on the job in hand. Hannah was just as important as Sherlock, he needed to let her know she was special or he would loose her as well.

Behind him the door clicked open and Hannah stood, all dressed up and waiting for him. She looked amazing and John couldn't help but feel he had definitely made the right decision.

Sherlock groaned as he opened his eyes. His head felt like it was splitting and he could feel that he had been beaten about his body while unconscious. Stupid, stupid, of course they knew that he had known. He could see two of the men clearly now, one he recognised as the stable manager, the one whom John had told about the key ring. He must have known whose it was and told the stable boy, Howls illegitimate son that they had it. The boy had been the accomplice in the murders, the one who had waited in the bedroom, hidden in the back of the wardrobe to let Howl in and out that night, who had then waited behind the door to slip out when Thomas had used his key to open the door. Perfect, Tommy goes down for murdering his mum for her insurance money and everything goes to her next of kin, callum and his illegitimate son. In the two seconds that this information hit him, Sherlock missed the approaching foot and so received the full force of it in his stomach. He curled up against the pain and moaned.

"I know, you know" a cheery voice called to him. "you don't know how but I know you know it was me, and I'm afraid that this little piece of evidence is enough to put me away for a few years, so I though I'd come and get it before you handed it over to the police. Did you think you could just cuff me up and walk me into the police station, and baffle all the officers with your powers? You're a fool, Holmes. Should have talked straight to that police man. Oh well, I suppose someone had to outsmart you didn't they" he chuckled and knelt beside the battered detective.

"You didn't outsmart me" Sherlock managed to say, noting as he did that his jaw had been broken

"No" Howl said with an air of sadness "I'm just the man who killed you"

"They'll know it's you" Sherlock murmured "don't be an idiot"

"Oh didn't you know" Howl said in surprise, "my good cousin Thomas was released from custody this afternoon on the grounds of not enough evidence, oh I wonder why Lestrade didn't tell you, maybe he assumed you would already know, you normally do. Well when he got home, he found a note waiting for him" Howls voice had become very patronising and he spoke now in a manner of mock surprise "it was addressed to Mr Howl but I kindly corrected your mistake, so easy to get from Howl to T Lowter really, and do you know what it said. Of course you do" he continued slapping Sherlock on the cheek in mock affection "well of course Thomas wanted to know what you had on him so he came round, found that you had his, um what could we say you had found" he looked up at Thomas, the third man in the room who was being covered by a pistol and looked as though he would faint at any moment.

"oh how about this" Howl clapped his hands with glee as he searched through the pockets of his captive and found Thomas's keys, with a small loose key ring, initialled and unmistakably Thomas's.

"yes so, you found a key ring, as even your friend will agree with and so Thomas killed you by beating you and stabbing you to death. I then find him covered in blood at my house and take him to the police station. Perfect"

Sherlock looked at the man, so excited by his plan that he was almost like a child.

"You think that will work" he managed sarcastically "come on, the police will…" but Sherlock had no time to finish his sentence. In a moment there was duck tape on his mouth and hands holding down his arms.

"Bring him over here" Howl snarled to his son. Thomas was forced to Sherlock's side and made to kneel beside him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" he wept over and over as a knife was placed in his hands and positioned over Sherlock's chest. Sherlock shut his eyes as the blade moved over his him, he could hear the police car doors slamming and Lestrade and his men moving in but it would be too late. At least he would have justice he smiled. As the blade entered his chest he let the phone he had been recording the conversation with drop to the floor. Yes he would have justice.

John sat back in his chair and smiled to himself, what an evening. A perfect dinner and Hannah had been wonderful. They had so much in common and John knew this would be the start of something great, if only Sherlock didn't get in the way. Hannah was showing him the pictures of her trip to Venice, flicking calmly through her phone.

"I'll show you when I went" John said, remembering the trip he and Sherlock had taken on a case a few months ago. "didn't have as much time for sightseeing as you but" John reached into his pocket ,grabbed his phone and switched it on. Hannah laughed and asked if that was why she could never get him on his phone. John smiled and turned his eyes to the screen. What he saw made his head spin and his heart skip. As well as the message from Sherlock he had two missed calls from Mycroft, one from Lestrade and a message from the DI as well. "Shit" he muttered, opening his messages.

From Sherlock

I need you, please come, Houwl will be armed and violent, I cant do it alone

From Lestrade

Get over to Barts, Sherlock has been attacked. Its urgent

"Shit" John said again, feeling the panic in his chest. He hit the call button on Mycroft's call and stood up. "I've got to go, sorry Hannah, my friend's been taken to hospital" Hannah stood up and moved over to him, sitting him back down on the chair.

"Calm down and make your call" she told him firmly, then signalled for the waiter to give them the bill.

John listened anxiously to the ringing phone, why wouldn't he answer. A thousand thoughts ran through his head till suddenly a voice sounded in his ear.

"John its Greg"

"What, why have you got Mycroft's phone, what is.."

"Look just get down here, ok. Barts ward three. It's Sherlock, I… he's been attacked"

"shit is he ok, Greg? Are you still there"

"just get here John" Lestrade shouted down the phone then softened his voice "there's no easy way to say this but, you're gonna have to be quick… or you might not get a chance to say goodbye"

The phone went dead leaving John shocked and cold in the middle of the restaurant.

Mycroft sat still and perfectly calm in the corridor beside the operating room. Countless doctors had tried to move him down to the waiting room but with a small, firm "No" Mycroft had stood his ground and acquired a chair, his own security guard and permission to use his phone. But as it rang now, quietly buzzing away he couldn't answer it. What would he say to the man on the other end, Sherlock's only friend? How would he explain without showing how he was feeling? Silently he passed the phone to Lestrade without even looking at him. Lestrade had been pacing nervously and sighed as he saw the name on the phone call. He pressed answer and looked up at Mycroft. His face was flint, pale but perfectly composed.

"John it's Greg"

Throughout the call Mycroft watched as the detective struggled not to let his emotions break through. He thought back to Sherlock's question about if there was something wrong with them. No, he knew he cared, far too much, why couldn't he just not care like Sherlock. As Greg ended the call and handed back the phone, Mycroft couldn't help but notice the guilt, so clear in Lestrade's eyes. Why guilt, he thought to himself. Surely he had been the one who had saved his brother. He had after all, rushed to Sherlock's help on the evidence of a text, broke down the door and wrenched the sobbing man off of him. It had been Greg who had alerted Mycroft and John, Greg who had noticed the phone still recording the conversation and Greg who would not let anyone go until the phone had been examined. He should be feeling proud now of what he had achieved, not guilty. Why guilt. Looking up, Mycroft saw Lestrade's puzzled face turn to him and he realised he must have spoken out loud.

"What do you mean guilt" Lestrade asked him cautiously. Mycroft had hit upon the truth but how on earth could he have known.

"I am sorry" Mycroft said lightly "I didn't realise I was speaking. Why guilt though, why are you guilty" For a moment Greg thought it was best to simply brush it off, make out he was fine, but Mycroft's eyes were even more accusing than Sherlock's. It was like being in with the head teacher; he simply had to tell the truth.

"I said some stuff, I.. I really shouldn't have said" he muttered finally. "He's was getting to me" he continued loudly, pacing the corridor once more "you know what he's like. Kept going on about how things were obvious and why couldn't I see it. Why did I take everything at face value, what a common place copper I was"

"He doesn't mean it you know"  
"I know he doesn't" Lestrade shouted back "but sometimes he really doesn't think what comments like that do to people." Lestrade paused, hand on his neck, fighting the urge to break.

"What did you say"

"I told him if he was so clever he should work on his own, without the police help, leave us to plod along by ourselves and see what happens when he can't get to any of the witnesses, crime scenes or evidence"

"You banned him from the case" Mycroft nodded with a sigh "prevented him from knowing that you had released your chief suspect to produce his own damning evidence and ultimately forced him to reveal his address to killers"

"I'm not proud of it ok" Lestrade said bitterly "can we drop it"

"And yet even though he hurt you, you still went straight to his aid when he asked for it" Mycroft looked over at the detective with his warmest glare "that's a true friend. Leave the guilt pill for those who deserve to take it"

John sat down the taxi and buried his face in his hands

"No, no, no, no" he muttered through his fingers "don't you dare die, don't you bloody dare, you selfish, selfish, no, no, no.."

"Stop" said a voice beside him, gently pulling his hands away and looking into his eyes "calm down ok, there's nothing you can do, stop torturing yourself"

"It's my fault" John cried in desperation as he shook his head, forcing back tears and rocking slightly "if I'd been there, if I'd not stormed off, if I'd only remembered that Sherlock Holmes is just like that then…"

"Then it would be me on my own, visiting you, feeling crap because I'd been cursing you all night for not taking me out"

"Oh Hannah" John said looking at her "I'm so sorry, I said that he wouldn't ruin our dates anymore and yet here we are, cutting it short again. What the hell do you think of me?"

"I think" Hannah said taking him by the hand "that every time we've been out I've felt happier than I have done in years. I think that it takes a strong man to accept help from his girlfriend and that you are the loyalist friend I've ever known, I'm proud to be with you John Watson"

John let the tears fall now and hugged his girlfriend too him, where had she been all his life. For a moment, even now, Sherlock faded into the background where he had never been before and he felt the same rush of pleasure as the first time he had touched her.

The operation seemed to have lasted a lifetime. Greg stood now staring at his feet, comforted by Mycroft's words and the phone call that had just come through. Howl had confessed all when he had heard Sherlock had recorded his conversation. Tommy had been released again but was under instruction to stay away from the hospital for the sake of Sherlock's relatives. It had been him after all who had plunged the knife into Sherlock's chest.

Mycroft had received several phone calls from Magdella his P.A. A multitude of meetings were due to happen this evening and next morning and people were beginning to twitch without the man at the top. He hadn't answered any of them however, simply cancelled the calls and sat still. The pressure was building though and he knew that he would not be able to stay calm here in the corridor for much longer. He closed his eyes for a second but snapped them open at the sound of the doors opening beside him. Mycroft wanted to act as Lestrade did now and leap on the body on the bed, fire questions at the doctors and walk beside his brother wherever they were taking him. However, Mycroft Holmes never acted as he wanted to and so he sat still and calm until the group had passed him, Lestrade had been held back and there was only one doctor left. Mycroft then stood and raised his eyebrows to the man in front of him, steeling himself for the words he dreaded.

"We've done all we can" the doctor quietly "there's nothing now to do but wait and see if he can pull through"

"So he is alive" Mycroft demanded, rather more emotively than he wanted.

"Yes sir" the doctor answered "if he's strong enough his stats should begin improving in the hour, if not then you should prepare yourself for the worst"

Mycroft nodded and walked slowly down the corridor, picking up his phone to call Magdella.

"Give me an hour, then come and fetch me"

"An hour!" John's voice rang out in the empty corridor. Mycroft looked up to see the ex army doctor breathing heavily and holding himself back from charging at Mycroft

"Is that all your prepared to give him, your own brother, one hour then it's back to work"

"John…"

"He's been attacked, he needs you, why can't you at least pretend to care"

"there is nothing I can do, do you understand, I cant force him to recover, I cant heal him, I have been with him since ten minutes after the ambulance was called" Mycroft's voice broke now as he clearly displayed the stress he was under. He steadied his breathing, set his face and shook his head. What more could he do. He had been there when they carried his half dead body into the ambulance, he had been there when he regained consciousness for a few minutes, shouted the ambulance down and begged for John's forgiveness. It had been him who had made the call to resuscitate when his heart had stopped. There was nothing else he could do. Mycroft thought of recounting this all to John but his compose was set and it would not do to break again.

John saw for a moment the desperation Mycroft was feeling and it soften his hardened heart. He breathed slowly and nodded slightly.

"Where is he" he asked, trying hard to sound normal. Mycroft managed a small smile and lifted his umbrella to point the way.

The room where Sherlock lay was quiet and calm. Of course Mycroft had secured a private room for his brother the moment he knew what was happening.

"How would he ever rest with so many people to watch, it would be spot diagnosis and unbearable for the nurses" Mycroft said quietly in response to John's approval of the room. "I'll leave you too it"

"Don't you want to talk to him" John asked, slightly angered by yet another display of coldness.

"He is unconscious John, waiting until his body is strong enough to override the machines. He can't hear me" Mycroft turned on his heel and left the room, patting John on the shoulder as he went. For a while John simply stood there and took in the sight. His friend lay, perfectly still, as though he slept. He had tubes in his nose and wires attached to his chest. His face was covered in bruises and a large dressing was over his chest. He looked pitiful yet John did not feel the despair he had done a few minutes earlier. Whether by machine or not, the chest was rising and falling, the closed eyelids flickered slightly and the sound from the monitor was almost normal. A little slow perhaps.

"Makes a change" John muttered to himself. He stepped over to the body of his friend and took his hand. Another feeling of relief surged through him when he felt the warmth of the living man. "See, I knew you'd be ok, you always over dramatize things you attention seeking idiot. And you say I embellish stuff, well this has got to take it to the extreme don't you think. First you get engaged just for information then you end up in here just to show…, well just to get my attention"

Hannah could see John getting wound up by the state of his friend and moved forward to intervene.

"Well it hasn't worked ok, I still went out with Hannah, see I told you I would so you can just stop this now, stop it right now and get up and get better" John's shouts turned into choked sobs as he was pulled away by Hannah

"Come on, come on" she soothed, taking his head in her hands "This isn't helping anyone, lets go yeah, lets go outside for a bit, come on"

Out in the corridor John let his tears fall freely, the anger he felt toward himself was unbearable, how could he have let his friend go through this alone, why had he only thought of himself. A small warm hand reached over and took his firmly. Suddenly the anger began to melt away and some sort of reality crept back into his mind. He looked up at Hannah, her face so concerned and beautiful. It was a slight shock for John to realise that being with her took away the fear and the urgency of the situation.

"I'm sorry" he muttered "really I am, you have been amazing and I don't deserve you at all. Look if you want to go, then that's fine, you know I'll come with you and come back later, he's not going anywhere for a while and I …"

"John" Hannah interrupted him with a smile "I'm not going anywhere and neither are you. We need to at least know what the doctors think after his given hour. I'm fine here, really"

"But if you don't want to, we can always…"

"John, I don't feel second best ok" she said firmly, hitting his fears squarely on the head. "You never make me feel like that"

John nodded and smiled

"Your not" he managed with difficulty "not to anyone"

"Get a little sleep now" Hannah said softly "I'll keep checking on him and I'll let you know as soon as anything happens, ok"

How she had known that that was exactly what John needed he would never know, but because of her words he felt able to lie back on the chair and let his eyes close. It was now half one in the morning. He had been up since five with Sherlock, just five minutes he told himself, just five.

Hannah watched her sleeping boyfriend and sighed. She hadn't been with him for that long but she knew how much Sherlock Holmes meant to him. Hannah hadn't been sure whether he would sleep or not but now forty minutes later he was still sound asleep. She stood and walked over to the coffee machine, she wouldn't sleep, never had been much of sleeper at all. As she turned in the corridor to go back to the chairs she glanced through the window of the private room. With a small shock she noticed that the eyes of Sherlock Holmes were wide open, flitting around the small room in what seemed to be a state of shock. Hannah opened the door carefully and saw the eyes jump onto her. As she walked toward him, Sherlock's eyes darted everywhere over her, closing for a moment in irritation, as though he was trying to push something from his mind. It was only when she reached toward him and took his hand gently that she saw the body relax and the eyes flicker with triumph.

"Hello" she said quietly "good to see you awake"

"You're her" came the slurred reply. The mouth readjusted itself and tried again. "You're her, you're the one. The special one"

"I'm sorry?" Hannah had not been expecting this response whatever else she had expected.

"Don't tell me" Sherlock continued "um, Hannah isn't it. Yes, you're her aren't you"

"I'm Hannah yes"

"You've taken him" Sherlock said closing his eyes for a moment. Hannah had no idea what to say

"Look, um I'm sorry, I don't know.."

"You're John's girlfriend" Sherlock answered, a little annoyed "right?"

"Right"

"You've taken him, from me. You've taken my baby sitter and let me have my friend again. You've given him a new focus, away from me and my strange life. You've given him something worthwhile. He talks about you, all the time. You can tell when he thinks about you and when he misses you. I've seen him with many girlfriends before but you… you are the special one. And I have one request"

Hannah wiped away the tears that had fallen during his brief monologue and grasped his hand even more tightly.

"Anything"

"don't let me… don't let me mess it up…" Sherlock moved his hand to his chest as the pain began to come back through.

"Don't move, I'll get the doctor" she told him and moved quickly from the room, back to the man she knew now really did care as much as she'd thought.

Sherlock opened his eyes. The pain wasn't there, the pressure wasn't there, the noises weren't there. He must be dead. It was the only logical explanation his brain would come up with. But now, as he lay there, he realised that he was wired up, with a tube in his nose and a bandage on his chest. This was a hospital, in a private room but it had to be Barts, no other hospital would have curtains like that, certainly not a private one. He knew Mycroft had been with him, he remembered him holding onto him as he had shouted something insensible. But now? Nobody. Was he on his own, had John not wanted to see him due to the things he had said before? Sherlock looked around the room, trying to see who had been in there but he couldn't see enough to tell him anything. Then the door handle turned and was opened by a woman. Dark hair, green eyes, worked in an office or… or… he couldn't think, suddenly his mind was flicked away back to image of Tommy crying as he stabbed him. Sherlock shook his head and pushed it away. This woman was about thirty, with um… the image flooded back another time and threatened to engulf him again. Suddenly her hand was on his, squeezing gently. Sherlock's mind snapped back into focus. John's deodorant mixed with an expensive perfume, the one John had bought for her, the eyes that didn't know him filled with concern. It was obvious who it was

"You're her" the morphine filled words came out as though he were drunk. He stretched his broken jaw and tried again. "You're her" he said carefully "you're the one, the special one"

As he spoke to her, sharing thoughts he would never have been able to say had he not been on morphine , he noticed that she was crying. He would never understand women.

"don't let me… don't let me mess it up…"

John had woken violently to the sound of Hannah's panicked voice. For a moment he had forgotten all about where he was and why he was there and could only focus on the eyes that stared down at him now.

"What, what's happened, tell me, tell me now" he burbled madly as he forced himself up from the chair

"He's awake, quick he's awake" she answered, her eyes still filled with the tears she knew weren't helping the situation but she couldn't stop them.

John staggered to his feet and walked quickly to the room, followed closely by Mycroft who had just come around the corner. In the small room, a doctor was tending to Sherlock, who was breathing in a ragged painful way. John watched his friend visibly trying to steady himself as the doctors talked at him and checked his vital signs. Beside him he could feel Mycroft stiffen and move against the wall, clearly to avoid the general panic in the room. Then the noise in the room lessened, the doctors breathed more and spoke less and the man in the bed, relaxed into his pillow and then looked straight ahead at John with an almost imperceptible smile. John fought the tears of relief and walked over to the bed.

"you ruined my date again" he started, not returning Sherlock's smile.

"And again" Sherlock began shakily "you didn't …have to come"

"What do you mean, I didn't have to come, you end up in hospital and you think I wouldn't come"

"You cut… your date short… for me" he said with a slight cough and a smug smile. "You didn't have … to come"

For a moment no one said a thing. The silence in the room was unbearable for John and he opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by his friend. "but you brought… her with you this time…I'm sorry John, I" Sherlock closed his eyes for a second and breathed slowly.

"Don't apologise" John answered "don't you bloody dare, I shouldn't have left you, why didn't you tell me that nutter was coming round, do you think I would have gone out if I'd known that, I would have stayed, you know I would, I"

"John!" John felt himself being pulled away as Mycroft's voice cut through his speech. He hadn't noticed Sherlock's breathlessness or coughing, he had only focused on what he wanted to say. As the doctors led him out he called back, desperate to say the one thing that mattered.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock, I am"

Mycroft wasn't angry that Lestrade had to leave. He wasn't meant to spend so much time with Sherlock so he was already in trouble. But ignoring a serious call from his superior wasn't going to do anyone any good. He had then nodded politely and bid him farewell. He checked his watch and made to walk back to sit with his brother. The hour was nearly up, then decisions would have to be made, decisions he truly did not want to make. Mycroft heard Hannah before he saw any of the doctors. He quickened his pace and headed for the room he had seen John run into. Something inside of him stopped, he wasn't sure what. Walking into the room, Mycroft's eyes fell on the man in the bed. He was alive. Alive and breathing without the machine. Mycroft felt whatever had stopped earlier, start again and, realising it had been his breathing, leant against the wall for support. He didn't need to be like the doctors and John and get as close as he could to his brother, he could see exactly what was happening from where he was. Sherlock was breathing, he was struggling, but more with the shock of so many people fussing over him. He managed to catch Sherlock's eye as he looked, in panic around the room. Mycroft set his face in a calm, composed manner and nodded gently to Sherlock as he always had done when he was younger to calm him down when he couldn't intervene. Sherlock took the look and locked onto his eyes as he focused on his breathing. Finally Mycroft saw him relax into the pillow, the noise level drop and Sherlock shift his gaze away from him and onto John. Mycroft watched him as he smiled at his friend, the panic in his own chest beginning to ease now. He watched as John walked over to him and studied the pair as they immediately began arguing like an old couple. John was angry, and Sherlock was as arrogant as ever. He would have left them too it as well if it had not been for the fact that Sherlock was finding it hard to breath again, Mycroft signalled to the doctors to go back over to him as he interrupted John's angry speech. He could be so over emotional at times. Mycroft led the weary doctor away with one final glance at his brother. He knew he would be fine now, he always was.

Sherlock returned home the following week and continued as though nothing had changed. His scars healed and his cases flowed through as usual but something was different. John was different, even after everything Sherlock had been through that night, John still preferred an evening with Hannah rather than with Sherlock. It didn't matter to begin with, the detective could immerse himself fully in his cases and not think about the absence of his blogger. Even when he was there, he wasn't really, not anymore, not like he used to be. But when the cases died down and the tedious day to day routine threatened to force him to think about things he'd rather not, that was when he felt the sting of jealousy. He knew that he shouldn't care, knew that it was pathetic to be so possessive about his flat mate but still it hurt when he didn't see him for days on end, when he forgot to tell him he wouldn't be there in the evenings and when he talked of nothing but Hannah. But being Sherlock he would find a way to push all that emotional stuff aside. Oh yes, he would find a way.


End file.
